


Champagne - Johnlock

by breathing_exe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Anal, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom John, Bottom John Watson, Drug Use, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay, Gay Sex, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom John Watson, References to Drugs, Sensitive Sherlock Holmes, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:57:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathing_exe/pseuds/breathing_exe
Summary: Champagne and drugs. Fuck friendship, right?





	Champagne - Johnlock

“I know you’re sick but_ come on!_ How are you this slow?” Sherlock’s voice traveled down the rickety stairs of their shared flat. The detective’s hands were free of burden, quickly busying themselves by pulling off his coat and scarf.

“A babbling infant…” Sherlock whispered loud enough for John to hear. He heard the blonde let out an infuriated huff from his comment followed by a tumbling of tomatoes.

“Be careful.” The brunette stood with his arms crossed, impatience written on his face.

“If you helped me,” John got up the last stair, shoving roughly at Sherlock’s shoulder to get past.

“I’d have been up here faster” The tall man rolled his eyes before walking to the couch, settling down for a long session within his own mind.

At the sound of bags being dropped on the ground, Sherlock opened one eye, glaring at the sniveling man.

“Oh no, you don’t. I’m the sick one. _You _put away the groceries while _I_ go take a nap.”

Sherlock rolled onto his feet heavily with an irritated expression. He strode towards his friend until he was directly in front of him, peering down. The smaller man stood his ground, bringing his hands to his hips as he waited for Sherlock’s comments.

“I wasn’t napping.”

“Your mind palace, I know.” The brunette’s face was coldly staring back at him. He bent down and picked up the two bags on the ground. Pleased, John turned away, walking to his room. Sherlock looked over the kitchen, debating where to put everything since his experiments took up most of the room in their fridge and cabinets. Coughing and sniveling interrupt his thinking, frustration settling in Sherlock’s brows. He drops the bags onto the ground in the kitchen and opens up the fridge, pulling out a petri dish.

“Experiment B is still running smoothly while Experiment A deteriorated…” He brought the dish to his nose.   
“Curious,” He prodded it with a spare medical stick he had out for other experiments.

“Would Experiment B be dangerous to digest?” The two containers were filled with rat innards. He went against his inclination, deeming it as too inhuman. More so he was too full to ingest anything else.

With a scowl he tossed the useless experiment away, creating enough room to fit precisely one banana. After seeing this, Sherlock slammed the fridge shut, hands combing through his hair in annoyance.

| |

After longer than necessary, all the groceries were in place. If John had done it this would have gone quicker but something important would have been thrown in the bin. Sherlock’s eyes drift to the last experiment he kept in the bottom of the fridge. He had been working on his favorite champagne. He had convinced Molly, with much persuasion, to give him an array of stimulants in powdered form.

  * Antabuse (vomiting when ingesting alcohol)

  * Hallucinogenic powder

  * Heightened impulsivity

All of these were common when people spiked each other’s consumables.

Sherlock considered the hallucinogenic drug for himself but couldn’t help but be drawn to the heightened impulsivity. Heightened impulses could affect him in numerous ways, like using his adrenaline to solve cases faster than he already can. But every experiment needs to be tested. He couldn’t possibly use John because he was sick.

But maybe it would help his white blood cells attack the virus quicker, enhancing _its_ natural purpose. Sherlock poured a decent amount of wine into a glass and added a generous portion of the powdered drug into the drink. Once it was mixed into one he shuffled to John’s room.

“_Bastard!_ Don’t you bloody knock?” John yells out after visibly flinching from Sherlock’s intrusion.

“Drink this.” The detective states simply, holding out a glass of champagne. John’s face showed evident confusion.

“Uh, Sherlock? This is awfully kind but I really need sleep, not a drink.”

“Drink. It’ll make you feel better, trust me.”

The blonde sat up and took the glass cautiously, looking between it and his friend. Bringing it to his nose he pulled back shocked.

“It smells different than usual-”

“Drink the bloody champagne, John.”

He brings the glass to his lips and takes the smallest sip and says thank you. Sherlock sighs, walking up to John and grabs his jaw, pouring a regular portion of the wine into his mouth.

“Why did you-?” _cough_ “Why do you want me to drink it so badly?”

“How do you feel?”

“How do I feel? Why would I feel different? All I feel is a bit sore… You’re not exactly gentle.” John trailed off, a permanent frown on his lips as he rubbed at his jaw.

Sherlock hummed with affirmation, looking John up and down before turning to leave the room.

“Get better John. Really.” He closes the door softly behind him, to John’s surprise.

Sherlock walks back into the kitchen pouring himself some champagne before adding the powder. He takes the glass into the living room and sits down in his chair, sipping sweetly at his favorite hard drink.

“It is different…” He smacks his lips, eyes hooding slowly as he drinks more and more.

“It’s even better than usual.”

| |

Once the wine touched John’s tongue and Sherlock left, he chugged the champagne. Every little drop made the blonde’s body shiver. It was Sherlock’s favorite but John never much cared for it. The flavor distracted him from the ache in his bones because of his sickness. When the glass was empty, John groaned out in annoyance. He grabbed his phone.

_‘Holy crap Sherlock. Bring the whole damn bottle, I need it desperately.’_

No more than a few minutes later, the door gets shoved open by a tipsy detective holding a half-empty bottle of wine. He stumbled towards the bed to sit next to his friend. John holds out his glass asking for a cup but Sherlock takes it and replaces it with the bottle itself.

“You don’t want anymore?” The brunette was thoroughly trashed, but he still had the need to ask. Sherlock gave him a look that said ‘you’re joking, right?’ before laying down further.

“Trust me, I want more but I know when I need to stop.” He closes his eyes, enjoying the quiet hum of alcohol in his system. John sips at the bottle only for those sips to turn into chugs. Sherlock listened with his eyes closed, gauging how much he had drunk from sound alone. As the liquid came to a dwindling end, the detective’s eyes opened into small slits. John takes a deep breath, his need for oxygen completely forgotten.

“I think I’m in love with a hard drink.” The blonde turned the bottle in his hand, looking at the brand and date of creation. It wasn’t even that long ago, how was it this good?

Sherlock hums, closing his eyes again. The room feels warm and comforting. John brought his legs up to his chest, enjoying the feeling of not being alone, especially when he had felt sick. But now he felt everything but ill. He hadn’t let out a single cough in what felt like ages. Sherlock wasn’t lying when he said the drink would make him feel better.

“John?”

The blonde didn’t even realize he had his eyes closed, swaying slightly. A soft affirming hum left his lips.

“How do you feel?” It took a bit for him to answer.

“I feel like I could beat up the world, do a backflip, and bang someone all at the same time.” The laugh that left John was so genuine his face ached from grinning. Sherlock laughed with him, low but undeniably there. Silence dawned on them as they enjoyed each other’s company.

Sherlock had laid completely down, breaths coming out sluggish as though he were asleep. John looked down at him but immediately regretted it. His heart started to beat faster, fear growing since he didn’t have a reason for it. The blonde’s mouth started to salivate as his palms grew warmer. The soreness in his jaw reminded him of Sherlock’s grip from before. He slowly unrolled himself from his curled up state, feeling too warm. It wasn’t a fever. No, not that instantaneously. But the thing that finally tied the whole weird encounter together was the slightest groan that left Sherlock’s sleeping lips. John flinched, his body winding up from the smallest noises the other made. The detective’s hand rose up in his sleep to lay by his head. His body was the most relaxed it's ever been around him and John noticed_ it all_. Noticed when the brunette’s chest began to rise into an almost pant, or the slightest raise of his hips in his sleep to adjust.

Sherlock finally wakes up, breathing as though he returned back from sprinting. He sat up, leaning against the wall beside John, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. There was a silence in the air that made it hard for John to look away from his twitchy, mysterious friend. Sherlock’s fingers keep scratching at the sheets before curling into them.

“You’re reading me now?” Sherlock whispers out. The remark sounds oddly coy like he wasn’t sure if the idea of John actually doing that was a bad thing or not.

“Reading you-?” John begins to ask.

“The champagne,” Realization hits as he utters the words. He turns an accusing eye to his friend.

“What did you put in it?” John’s voice was sharp with anger. In response, Sherlock turns his head to the side. _Blatant avoidance._

The blonde’s anger-filled eyes followed the length of his friend’s pale neck. No matter how hard he tried to not let his eyes wander, they did so on their own accord. He couldn't think, he couldn’t stay outraged, but he also couldn’t breathe.

“Are you angry?” The tone of his friend's voice made his brows knit, a burning feeling beginning to coil in his stomach. He hadn’t realized they hadn’t looked at each other in the eyes for a good while, his mind screaming that it was on purpose.

“John, are you angr-”

“Look up.” The brunette looked up and John’s heart jumped. Sherlock’s pupils covered almost all its color, making it abundantly clear that drugs were indeed involved.

“Now answer my question.” He was so shocked. He wasn’t only shocked but a completely different feeling kept swallowing up every negative his brain tried to conjure up. Sherlock swallowed looking dead at his eyes. As if reading John’s mind, a small smile grew on his mouth. He tried to conceal it by licking his lips.

John curses under his breath. With electricity coursing through his body he gets up onto his knees and straddle’s Sherlock’s lap. His hands taking purchase on the taller man’s shoulders. His own actions shocked himself but whatever was in his system was not letting him feel any shame or desire to stop. The detective takes a moment before gripping his friend’s hips, pushing the other down to sit on his lap properly. That was just enough permission John needed in order to ease the uncontrollable guilt that rose in his gut.

“Don’t be ashamed. It’s my fault anyway.” Sherlock rolled up into the pressure between them, making John’s eyes clenched shut. Like a fucking book, Sherlock can read him. The detective’s large hands go to wrap around the blonde’s thighs, tight enough to create bruises. This made John open his eyes again, realizing they had created a rhyme together unintentionally. Small rubs had turned into full-on grinding. Draping his arms entirely around Sherlock’s shoulder’s, John buries his face into the other’s neck, letting out whines he was holding back. Those large hands traveled up towards John’s ass pushing him harder into his growing bulge.

“...fuck” John shook his head, the guilt became too much. Sherlock must have felt him pull back but he just pulled him in closer. Wrapping his arms around the blonde’s center he places his lips to the shorter man’s neck, massaging the skin there. John’s lips part, feeling his friend mouth at his pulse. He could feel just how fast his heart was going, his eyes refusing to open. Embarrassment came from the thought that Sherlock could feel it, making his pulse beat even faster. He felt vibrations from Sherlock’s laughter before he doubled his efforts on his neck, making John let out a content sigh.

“You don’t have to- we don’t have to,” The sound of lips on skin stopped before a raspy voice replaced it.

“Ever stopped to think I’d want this too?” His voice sent a shudder down John’s spine as he sat straighter on his friend’s solid lap.

“Don’t say these things.” He grumbled at the detective, eyes still barely open. If they were, John sure as hell could not feel them.

“It’s true…” A large hand slithered into his pants squeezing at him through his boxers. John’s eyes snapped open in shock, the lower half of his body moving on its own accord. The blonde’s hands move to grip at the hand in his pants but Sherlock took it out himself, gripping at John’s hands with both his own. His hold was strong but there was a slight tremor and that is when John realized just how _hard_ he was too.

“You weren’t kidding.” Sherlock looked at him confused. Kneeling up a bit, still holding onto the brunette’s hands John brought his thigh between Sherlock’s legs making him jolt. The sight of his clad leg between his friend’s well-ironed pants made him want to ruin the other. Sherlock had always appeared put together since the first day they met. Never in John’s life did he think a day would come where he’d love nothing more than to burn every article of dashing clothing his friend owned.

“Prick-” The detective snarked out before being cut off by a choke from another rub to his arousal. With Sherlock’s eyes closed, John quickly descended, mouthing at his bulge through his trousers. He feels the tall man squeeze his hands, letting out a heavy breath. Pushing at him harder coaxes a low moan out of Sherlock.

Looking up, John sees his friend hiding his face from him. The blonde squeezed their hands as a warning before he came up to the other man’s face.

“Sherlock?” The other man turned his face to him. His cheeks were adorably rosy, becoming redder as he notices John smiling at the sight.

“You don’t have to be quiet.” With a roll of his eyes, Sherlock squeezed their hands before turning his face away again. John tapped at their interlocked fingers making the other look back at him.

“I’m going to need my hands.” The blonde said humorously, hoping to calm whatever nerves the drug in Sherlock’s system is bringing up.

“Go on without them.” A completely different tone from his shyness prior, much more like the Sherlock John knew. It was said without hesitation, a completely serious expression on his face. The baritone in his voice made John’s drugged body shake but he just nodded. Where their hands intertwined became increasingly hot. He pressed his lips to Sherlock’s steadily wrinkling shirt, moving downwards. As he got lower their joined hands followed, making him feel less alone in his exploration. He then got to his fly,

“You can use your hands-” John took the button in his mouth, only taking a moment to pop it open. Sherlock’s lips parted at the sight. John was completely oblivious, eagerly catching the zipper between his teeth. The slow pull over where he was constricted drew confessions out of Sherlock’s throat. With bated breath, the detective spoke,

“I put drugs in your drink.” John’s eyes were dark as he looked up at his flatmate. The sight was much more than what the brunette could handle, his confession truly was just to buy time for him to calm down.

“I know. You bring this up why exactly?” Sherlock glances at their hands, fingers moving unconsciously.

“I don’t want you to keep going if you’re out of it.” John kneeled up, coming back up to his face.

“Go fuck yourself, Sherlock.” The detective looks at his friend as if he were someone completely different until John presses their lips together. Their intertwined hands cage Sherlock’s head between them, his curls fanning on John’s pillow. The detective squeezes their hands as John plays with his tongue, making his hips chant upwards. Their lips disconnect, Sherlock stares at John’s with unconcealed want.

“You better keep still when I’m down there. I’ve only done this a handful of times.” John’s comment was met with a serious expression. Serious enough that Sherlock began to untangle their hands. John scrambled, holding the other’s hands tightly.

“It was a joke,” The blonde chuckled, seeing how upset the other man got. He lays down against him slowly, cuddling his face into the taller man’s neck.

“It was a joke.” He whispers fondly, rubbing the other’s skin with his thumbs. Sherlock’s legs shift under him restlessly after a few moments, John’s breath hot against his neck. They were so close, chest to chest, lips pressed to pulse. Sherlock’s eyes flutter closed. He muffled the sounds that kept trying to escape. His mind screamed to move away but his body couldn’t pull away from the lips on his skin.

Finally, John brings him between his lips, a pleased sound resonating in his throat at Sherlock’s taste. The detective tensed up as the other nipped at his skin, sucking at him roughly. He released his skin and licked at the sore bruise that began to form. Sherlock’s hands twitched, only to curl up tightly in the other’s.

“Hey,” John unlocks one of their hands which makes Sherlock open his eyes. The blonde cradles his face, turning it towards himself.

“Breathe.” Sherlock took in a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He was trying so desperately to be quiet. His eyes were open, telling everything to John.

“Why don’t you want me to hear you?”

The other looked away, putting a hand to John’s side before motioning he was going to sit up. John intercepts him, interlacing their fingers again with a concerned face.

“It’s embarrassing.” John visibly was taken aback and Sherlock again rolled his eyes.

“Embarrassing?” The blonde repeated before pausing for a moment. With a smug smile, he began moving down towards the other side of Sherlock’s neck.

“N-”

The detective’s breath catches, this side of his neck was far more sensitive than the other. John brings his hips down to the other man’s making Sherlock pull at their hands. Relentlessly rubbing down, John groans around the skin in his mouth. The blonde squeezes their hands, releasing the skin in his lips and letting out a breathy moan. He felt the other go rigid under him which made him smile. Pulling their arms upwards he tucked their hands under the pillow that held Sherlock’s head. He dug his face right under the brunette’s jaw and sucked, making an abrupt choked off sob rip from Sherlock’s chest. John slowed down after that.

“Fuck, if that’s the noises you make…” John kneeled slightly, sitting up straight as he used their hands to trail up his own thighs. Sherlock’s face was _burning_, hair tousled in every direction already. He moved their hands to the detective’s bulge tenting painfully under his boxers.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go further.” Sherlock nods, his body at John’s complete mercy and the other knew this.

“Who knows, maybe this drug you used on me makes you taste like candy.” The taller man scoffed, his faux annoyance completely disappearing when John lets go of his hands and brings it to his underwear.

“It doesn’t do that… I wouldn’t think…” He was pulled out for only a moment before two hands wrapped around him.

“Really now?” John beamed, watching as Sherlock struggles to stay consciously present as he spoke. Each tug sending his eyes closed, begging him to just enjoy the sensations he was feeling. John leans down licking at his head which has Sherlock’s eyes widening. The detective places his elbows on the bed, laying up to almost protest. John watches the panic vanish as he takes him deep into his mouth, warmth wrapping around Sherlock completely.

“I’m very,” John hums, confirming that he was listening, making Sherlock fall back into his pillows.

“Sensitive” A sound of recognition vibrated from John’s throat before making Sherlock jolt.

With a sound so wet it made almost made Sherlock cum upon hearing it, John pulled off.

“Maybe it’s just the drug,” He smiled prettily, tongue coming out to lick his entire shaft as they spoke completely nonchalantly.

“Not… not the drug. Always have been.” Sherlock began unbuttoning his shirt, it was too hot for one.

“Hm, interesting” John spoke, as if they were discussing the newest homicide that came today. He leans lower bringing Sherlock’s balls into his mouth. The brunette’s legs jolt, his hands flying down to the other’s hair.

“The drug…” Sherlock managed to say out loud before a moan attempts to escape.

“Mmhm?” John answers before taking Sherlock’s cock down his throat again. The tall man’s legs moved up to frame the blonde’s head, John gripping his flatmate’s thighs as he takes him in all the way, throat fluttering around Sherlock.

“_Mmh!_” Sherlock cuts himself off harshly, his head being thrown back.

His clad thighs tense from the effort it takes to not buck up into John’s throat. He feels eyes on him, making him look down. Right as he looks down he feels John’s throat go slack and watches as he closes his eyes. The detective’s chest rose erratically as he pushed up experimentally. A moan came from John, vibrating Sherlock’s entire frame. He thrusted up harder, noticing how John’s hands clench the sheets under either side of his hips.

“_Fuck_” Sherlock brought his hands to John’s head, moving him up and down along with moving his hips, fucking into the blonde’s mouth. He got a few thrusts in before he felt the need to cum again. He slowed down, trying to explain but the words wouldn’t come out. John slides off him with heavy breaths, lips glistening, eyes red.

He kneels up, pulling down Sherlock’s pants to mid-thigh before unbuckling his own, licking at his slick lips.

“I think you’re wet enough.” He pulled off his own shirt before peeling off his bottoms completely.

“The drink _must _have done something, you were almost as good as candy.” Sherlock places a hand to his forehead, bewildered by how self-assured the other was about everything they were doing. It had to be the drugs. It _had_ to be his natural impulses.

And maybe Sherlock wasn’t all that confident in the first place. Maybe _that’s _his instincts.

“Are you okay with this?” John says in all seriousness, the state of their bodies seemingly completely forgotten.

“Yes.” And he really meant it. The blonde sunk down, his breath stalling as Sherlock’s eyes widen, realizing he wasn’t stopping.

“We’ll that’s a first,” John says, surprise in his own voice. Sherlock was confused but his toes curled, the tightness around him squeezing him in just the right ways.

“First… what?” Sherlock felt the other begin to lift up but he quickly stopped him, closing his eyes. He needed to take a moment or he would cum already.

“That I took it all in one go. Even by myself my body needs a moment to adjust.” John brought his hands to Sherlock’s that gripped his hips.

“The champagne, it’s a drug that heightens impulses.” John squeezed around him, lifting a brow.

“My impulses are making it easier to take you?” Sherlock groans lowly at the thought. The fact that the drug made the other’s body instinctively take him made something primal in him tick.

“Can I move now?” As he spoke he rose up, dropping himself back down before Sherlock could answer.

“_God_” John did it again, squeezing as he was filled up.

“I think that word is pretty problematic in this case, don’t you?” John leans forward, placing his hands on Sherlock’s smooth stomach, rocking back onto his cock.

“Shut up” The detective hisses out, raking his hands up John’s sides. It has been a long while since they joined in this room, light completely absent as they got lost inside one another’s bodies.

John rose off of Sherlock entirely, making him groan. He laid beside his flatmate, turning to half lay on his stomach, perching his left leg on a pillow.

“I’m the sick one and again you get off on doing less work,” John called over his shoulder. He spoke so casually, making it so easy from Sherlock to wrap his arms around the other and simply slide back in. A secret in this room, another between where their bodies met. Here Sherlock held John close, their pants slipping through the air as the most sensitive parts of them collided. It was equal and raw. John pushing back as much as Sherlock pushed in. There was no need to hold back anymore as they appeared as one shadow in John’s darkroom.

Sherlock couldn’t get any closer even though he tried, his hands making its way to John’s chest, raking up to his neck. The blonde’s head tilts back with the detective’s encouragement. He rubs at the smooth expanse of skin while also rubbing deliciously against his ribbed insides.

“Keep going and I won’t last long.” Sherlock smiled a genuine smile, gripping John’s propped leg and holding it up, getting impossibly deeper.

“Not long?” John made a pained expression before a moan was ripped out of him, that special spot in him getting hit dead on.

“Shit- _oh fuck_” John’s body went rigid as Sherlock pounded again and again at that spot. He tightened enticingly around him, giving the detective a second wind. Right as he felt the first spasm of John’s walls he turned him fulling on his stomach, fucking into him just right. His arms never left from around the other his body moving faster as he began to spill deep into the other. John choked out a pretty moan, pushing back into the prodding he felt on the inside, releasing and dribbling all over his sheets.

A content sigh left John as he pulled Sherlock’s arms closer around him. The detective began to pull out, John clenching to keep all that is in him from spilling out. He felt Sherlock’s heaviness return on top of him, lips pecking at his sweaty back before moving up to the back of his neck.

“Good?” John’s voice was rougher than he expected.

“_Good?_” Sherlock repeated like he couldn’t imagine that’s the first thing that came to his flatmate’s mind.

“Perfect?” John turned to look over his shoulder. Sherlock let out a low laugh, holding his own weight up enough to let the blonde turn over. He didn’t answer, just pressed his lips against John’s.

“I believe so.” 


End file.
